


Talk Me Down

by AnniGrace



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Exy, Fluff, M/M, Roof Sex, Smut, So much smut, Tumblr Prompt, like almost every chapter, more smut, neil has a sex dream, this is gonna be long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:59:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnniGrace/pseuds/AnniGrace
Summary: Andrew's been having loads of nightmares, so he and Neil go to Columbia to get away. Then Neil has a sex dream and wakes Andrew.Lots of angst, lots of fluff.(title is from the Troye Sivan song by the same name. every troye sivan song is about andreil.)





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Um. References to past abuse and rape probably (Seriously, this is AFTG, what do you expect?)

When Andrew began refusing cracker dust for the monsters, Columbia lost a lot of its appeal for Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin. More and more often, a trip to the city included only Neil and Andrew, and they spent less and less time at Eden's Twilight. Some weekends, they drove out to Columbia and went straight to the cousins' house. Sometimes they stopped at a grocery store and bought ice cream and coffee and booze.

The first week of November, Andrew had a bad week, his sleep filled with nightmares while his bed remained empty. Neil slept in his own bunk when Andrew's nightmares were this bad – neither wanted to wake up with a knife in the spleen. Andrew couldn't handle Neil's weight on the bed next to him. He was exhausted and irritable, and he spent too much time fingering the knives under his sleeves, trying to remind himself of their protection.

Neil didn't know how to help. His presence wasn't as easing for Andrew as Andrew's was when Neil had a hard time. The only thing he could do was give Andrew space. He made himself available, but didn't press. Even now, the men sat on opposite ends of the sofa. Andrew methodically worked his way through a pint of ridiculously sweet ice cream while Neil ate popcorn. A movie played on the television, Andrew having banned exy from the house. Around midnight, Andrew shut off the television. The screen went dark, leaving the men bathed in shadows. Andrew stood and walked to the doorway. Remaining seated, Neil asked, “Do you want me to stay here?” They had always shared Andrew's room since Andrew had admitted that this wasn’t nothing, but Neil was more concerned with Andrew's comfort than his own.

“Don't ask stupid questions,” Andrew snapped, making an impatient gesture for Neil to follow.

Neil didn't think it was a stupid question, but he ignored it for now, and followed the blond to his bedroom. Andrew shucked his jeans and eased his armbands off from underneath his long sleeves. He left his shirt and boxers on, standard sleep fare. He climbed into bed, back pressed to the wall, and stared a challenge at Neil, eyes shadowed in the dark room. For Neil's part, he tried to strip down in as innocent a manner as possible, leaving on his own shirt and boxers. He had his own scars that he hid from himself as much as possible.

“Do you want me here?” Neil asked again, standing beside the bed, giving the blond another out.

Andrew continued to stare, and Neil wished that he could read him better. Usually, he trusted Andrew to protect himself, but if he was more intent on protecting Neil, he ignored his own pain. He’d never valued himself as much as other people he refused to admit he cared about. “Lay down,” Andrew muttered, annoyed. “I want you here.” Neil did as he was told, stretching out on his back and leaving a narrow space between their bodies. He could not sleep on his back, and he didn't think he could sleep with his back to the room that evening, but if Andrew awoke from a nightmare, he didn't want him to be greeted by an anonymous back ripe for stabbing. Andrew sighed like Neil's consideration was unbearably irritating, and rolled Neil on his side, pulling him closer. “I promise I won't knife you until I remember you're you,” he said in response to Neil's thoughts. He had always been easier to read than Andrew. “Is this okay?” He touched fingertips to Neil’s stomach to indicate what he was asking.

“Yes, it's fine.” Andrew huffed at the phrase, and Neil smiled in the dark. Sleep was not long coming, not after a week of little sleep for both of them.

***

Neil was having a nightmare.

Andrew woke to the feel of Neil's bare torso under his arm. His shirt had ridden up, and his skin was too hot. His chest rose and fell too quickly with breaths that varied from sharp pants to soft sighs. A sound escaped the redhead's lips, a low whimper. Aside from the breathing he was still, but he felt almost fevered. Andrew sighed. This was the first day in over a week that he hadn't woken up clammy with fear, and instead he was clammy with Neil's fear. He knew that if he tugged Neil's overheated form against his, it would jostle him out of the nightmare, but he wanted to move to a cooler part of the bed first.

There was no cooler part of the bed, with Neil inches from him, and his back flush against the wall, so Andrew ignored his own discomfort and tightened his arm around Neil. He pulled the redhead's back flush to his chest, and then froze.  
The sound that Neil made just then was a sound Andrew usually only heard with his hand down the other's pants, and Andrew's body reacted on muscle memory, without permission. But no – he tamped down that reaction. No, he must have been imagining that sound.

Then Neil shifted closer to the blond, his ass riding fully against Andrew's groin, and that sound was absolutely a moan, full and debauched, and Andrew was suddenly rock hard and aching. Neil rubbed against him like he wanted him, rubbed against him like he never had before because Andrew never let him that close. For a single moment, Andrew pushed back and earned another whimper. His name. The sleepy mumble was full of need, and Andrew tightened his grip before remember that Neil was asleep and 'yes or no' hadn't happened, and he needed a yes or no more than air.

In his quiet desperation, the shove he gave Neil was hard and nearly pushed the taller man off the bed. Neil's flailing finished the job, and he hit the floor only to come up swinging and confused. “What – What? Andrew?”  
Andrew bared his teeth, yanking the blanket up over his shoulders. “Shut up and get out of my sight,” he growled, eyebrows drawn low and angry. He watched Neil's blue eyes widen as he scrambled out of the room, leaving the door open as he hurried down the hall. Andrew stormed from the bed to slam the door. He stormed around the room for a moment, kicking the pile of denim on the floor and cursing himself for touching Neil without permission, cursing himself for enjoying it, cursing himself for still being hard.

Beyond the bedroom, Neil made his way to the kitchen. The clock on the stove blinked 3:55. Neil tried to analyze what had just happened. His cheeks flamed red as he thought about the dream Andrew had torn him out of when he threw him out of bed. He didn't recall ever having a sex dream before, unsurprising due to his past and his singular attraction to Andrew. It was… startling. He could still feel the hum of arousal, but the rude awakening had mostly dampened his erection.  
He could imagine several reasons why Andrew might be upset. He could have had a particularly bad dream, and Neil was too close. Andrew may have simply woken to an unknown back and just shoved unknowingly. Or it could have been Andrew's stupidly accurate awareness of Neil, and he had somehow known what Neil was dreaming about. That idea brought more heat to his face because he was still trying to figure out the logistics of the dream.

Neil made a cup of hot chocolate, thinking to sooth the beast that was Andrew. Hopefully something warm and sweet would convince Andrew to allow Neil back in for a couple more hours of sleep, and even if it didn’t, it was a peace offering - an apology.

Cup steaming in hand, Neil returned to the bedroom. He tapped once on the door, then eased it open, slipping the mug inside and closing the door again without speaking. From there, he made his way to the living room. He turned on the television, setting the volume at a near-inaudible level, and switching to an ESPN channel. A far-too-awake host spoke about the recent Trojan game, and Neil stared blankly at the screen, thinking instead about his dream, how his dreamself had felt with Andrew’s hands and mouth and cock --

“Fucking junkie.”

Neil looked up sharply to meet Andrew's hooded gaze, dangerous in the pre-dawn light. His face was blank, like always, and he looked deadly, like always. Neil turned off the television, right before Andrew slapped the remote out of his hand. Then Andrew's mouth was on his, hot and hard and chocolate-flavored. Before Neil could tuck his hands safely away, Andrew's fingers circled his scarred wrists and dragged them to his shoulders. “Yes, Andrew,” Neil said against his mouth, before he could ask. Andrew kissed him harder, releasing his wrists in favor of climbing onto Neil's lap, knees braced on either side of his hips. He moved closer until chest pressed to chest, and he swallowed Neil's moan. The taller man moved beneath him, returning kiss after kiss until his breath was fast and hard as needy. More scenes from the dream came to him in a flash – bare skin against bare skin, bodies hard and pressing and wanting – and he couldn't keep his hips from thrusting up against Andrew.  
Andrew, nearly silent, responded with a shaky sigh and ground into Neil. He pulled his mouth away to lean in with a soft bite to Neil's neck. The resulting shudder and moan brought Andrew's head back up. “Didn't just come in your pants, did you?” he taunted.

Neil's laugh was breathless. “Not yet. Gonna make me?” he invited.

Andrew continued staring at his flushed face, his taught muscles, clenched to stay still, to keep his hands still on Andrew's shoulders, not straying. “Not in your pants,” he decided, adding with a smirk, “if you can resist it.”

“Yes, Andrew,” Neil groaned.

Sometimes, Andrew didn't know how he kept his hands off the mess of a man beneath him. Sometimes, Neil's relative lack of limits and his decided lack of self-preservation made Andrew want to tear him apart and watch him shatter. Sometimes he wanted to put Neil back together and hope his own pieces would reknit.

Andrew shifted their bodies, shoving Neil down on the sofa, sliding his hand between their bodies to palm Neil through his boxers. The redhead thrust up with a moan. Hand still stroking, he leaned down to press a kiss to Neil's neck, lips tracing the tense column and earning another moan. “I bet I can get you off in less than a minute,” Andrew challenged, encouraged by Neil's noisiness.

“I bet you could, too. I want you so much,” Neil mumbled. “We could get off together,” he added softly. An offer, not a request.

Andrew bit Neil's neck again. He eased his hand under the band of Neil's boxers. His fingers encircled Neil and worked quickly, dragging out a moan, a gasp, and pushing him over the edge. Neil, vaguely, was glad he hadn’t put money on Andrew’s bet.

Neil's were still on Andrew's shoulders, digging bruises into his flesh as he struggled to catch his breath. “Andrew.” It was a gasp, a sigh, a prayer, a lifeline. Andrew shuddered, suddenly overwhelmed. He shoved away from Neil, nearly falling off his sofa before finding his feet. He wiped his hand on the side of his shorts before crossing his arms defensively, moving as far from the sofa as he could without leaving the room. He wasn't a lifeline. He wasn't an answer. He was nothing. He felt nothing. He couldn't be what Neil wanted him to be. He couldn't do this, couldn't do this, couldn’t -

“Andrew. Andrew. Are you – can I help?” Neil had covered himself and sat up. His face, so recently slack with pleasure, was now a mask of worry. He stayed where he was, giving Andrew space. He wasn't sure what had set him off this time, what he'd done wrong, but he needed to know how to avoid doing it again. “I can leave?”

Andrew ignored him, fingering the edge of his sleeve. He didn't want Neil to leave. He didn't want to want, or be wanted. He wanted to get off. He wanted to get off with Neil. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted Neil's hands on him. He wanted to let Neil touch him without the demons of his past pushing in and ruining everything.

The silence stretched and Neil stood up. “I'll go,” he offered again.

“No.” Hazel eyes bore into blue. Hard. Angry. Afraid? “Stay.”

It was painful to watch Andrew's inner battle, but Neil stayed. He bit his lip, wishing he could do something. Andrew was constantly helping Neil through his multitude of issues and nightmares, but he couldn't return the favor with all of Andrew’s issues. He watched Andrew shuffle from foot to foot in front of the television, one of the few places in the room where his back wasn't to Neil or an exit. He was still visibly aroused, and it occurred to Neil that it was likely part of the problem. Andrew didn't like to be aroused around people.

Neil made a decision. Like most of his decisions involving the blond, it would either end with Neil being stabbed in the liver, or with Andrew relaxing and feeling safe with him, at least for the moment. The redhead stood and approached slowly. Andrew was at full attention, his shuffling stilled. Taking a deep breath, Neil knelt before the other man, hands resting still and visible on his own thighs. “Andrew. I am here for you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. It's a yes – whatever you need right now.”

“Oh Neil. As unpredictable as he is unreal.” It was an echo of something Andrew had said months and months ago. A scowl passed briefly across his handsome face - when had Neil started thinking of Andrew as handsome?

“I'm real. I'm here. What do you need?”

Andrew's face was back to impassive, but his movements were shaky and unsure in a way that he so rarely was. “You can't... do that,” he said, a faint edge to his usually impassive voice. “Idiot. You don't know what I want. How can you consent to it? What if I want to pull out a knife and finish carving up this stupid,” pretty, he thought, “face of yours?” Andrew traced a line across Neil's burnt cheek with the sharp edge of a ragged fingernail. Neil didn't flinch, just gazed up steadily. His voice turned hard and cruel. “What if I want to shove my dick down your throat?” He ignored the flash of desire – really, Neil? – on the redhead's face. “What if I want to fuck you? Hold you down and tear off your clothes and --”

Neil’s head shook slightly, eyes wide, the blue darker than usual. “Andrew, that bothers you. I don't... I would want...” He paused to gather his words. “If you want to do that, I will, because I trust you not to hurt me. And I trust you not to hurt yourself. So yeah, if you want, and we have... I don't know, lube or whatever...”

Andrew stared, mouth agape. Neil wanted to fuck? Andrew had only started to consider it because his recent nightmares featured Neil in his place and himself in place of Drake or Samuel. The thing was, they didn’t feel like nightmares, and in some - most - of them, Neil moaned like he did when Andrew sucked him off. In some of them, Neil was writhing and begging. But he begged Andrew not to stop, and Andrew didn't know what to do with that sort of begging.

Belatedly, Andrew reached out and pressed his fingers against Neil's mouth to make him quiet. He ignored the warning with a kiss. “You don't frighten me, Andrew. I trust you.”

The hand moved and cupped his cheek, brushing the edge of burned skin. “How?” Andrew didn't trust Andrew.

“God.” Neil could handle being beaten unconscious with a cane. He could handle running for years, a new name every month. He could handle a lighter jammed into his flesh, a knife to prevent him from flinching. He could handle knives and axes and bullets, but he could not handle that note of broken, painful, naked fear in Andrew's normally emotionless voice.

Making his own as calm as possible, he spoke quietly. “I wish I could take away all that shit they put in your head that makes you hurt for wanting what you want. Everything that makes you think you're a monster, when you are... not. I want to help you, be there for you the way you help me, but I don't know how to. So if sex is going to help you, then I want to do that. I know you've never... Not right, anyway. But I've read it can be good for, you know, the bottom. And even if I didn’t enjoy it, you wouldn’t hurt me. So, yes. I trust you. And if you need that, my answer is yes.”

“Shut up,”Andrew said, dropping to his knees and kissing Neil, surprisingly gentle in his anger. “Shut up and don't talk to me.” He kissed him again, again, taking what Neil offered. He wanted to see how far he could go. If he could just get off without having to lock himself up afterward. At least once.

Andrew dragged Neil's hands to his hair. “Here,” he ordered, then sighed as his fingers threaded through the gold strands to use subtle pressure to angle their mouths better and deepen the kiss. He kissed Neil again, hard, angry, determined, and pressed his body against the taller man.

Neil returned the kisses hungrily, like he hadn’t just come all over Andrew’s hands. His own hands were tangled firmly in Andrew’s hair, like he’d never imagine putting them anywhere else, like each body part Andrew gave him access to didn’t exist until such access was granted. His attention was on Andrew’s mouth and Andrew’s scalp, and Andrew’s hands sliding down his back, pulling his hips into Andrew’s.

Andrew bit Neil’s lip, eliciting a soft gasp, and rocked against him. His fingers dug into Andrew’s scalp. "I’m going to try something,” he mumbled against Neil’s mouth.

Neil nodded, kissing Andrew again. “Whatever you need,” he replied, slipping fingers through Andrew’s hair until the blond pulled one hand free.

Neil stilled immediately, letting Andrew guide his hand to rest on his side just above his waistband. Andrew hesitated, then shoved down his boxers, releasing a low breath as he wrapped his fingers around his cock. A stroke, two, and he tensed. Then, he reached for Neil’s hand again. He guided the other man’s hand around him, wrapping his own over it. Neil moaned like they were touching him, and leaned toward Andrew to brush lips. Andrew guided Neil’s hand, squeezing it firmly as they moved over his flesh. His breathing deepened, then went shallow, and he kissed Neil hard enough to bruise as their hands worked him to and over the edge. He was silent when he came - Neil whimpered.

Andrew released Neil’s hand, wiping his off on Neil’s shirt, to the redhead’s displeasure, and waited for the feeling of disgust and self-hatred to come. But Neil’s hand was still on him, gentle enough not to hurt his oversensitive nerve endings, just touching, holding, as Andrew softened in his fingers, and the only thing he felt was - pleasure.

“One hundred and fifteen,” he muttered, shoving Neil’s hand away from him. Shoving Neil away from him as he stood. Neil fell back, catching himself with his clean hand. and grinned at the blond. “Go clean yourself up,” he ordered. “You’re gross.”

“I’m only gross because you wiped your cum on me. I feel like there’s a better way to take care of that.” Neil murmured, standing. Andrew imagined he looked better - less threatening anyway - if Neil was teasing him. On the other hand, Neil lacked a sense of self-preservation, so maybe he looked normal.

Andrew scoffed as he tucked himself back into his boxers and tugged on his sleeves, making sure they covered his arms entirely. “Next time I’ll wipe it on your face,” he threatened, then rolled his eyes, when Neil’s smile widened. Neil leaned down and brushed a kiss to Andrew’s cheek, before retreating to the bathroom.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter - I just wanted Neil and Andrew to hold hands, okay?

Neil put off his morning run, waiting for Andrew to get out of the shower after him. He didn’t want Andrew to feel abandoned or forgotten or taken advantage of, and being gone when he came out of the bathroom, where he was necessarily more vulnerable than most other times, seemed almost cruel. Instead, while Andrew steeped himself in a too-hot shower, Neil foraged in the kitchen to see what they had left for breakfast from previous trips. There was a half-empty box of sugary cereal and a nearly full box of unfrosted Mini Wheats, courtesy of Kevin’s obsession with health. Neil wasn’t obsessed with his health, but he wasn’t a fan of over-sugary food, so he poured a bowl of Mini Wheats before realizing that the quarter-cup of milk in the fridge had gone out of date well over a month ago. He gave a sigh and sat at the counter with the cereal and popped a brick into his mouth, making a face as he chewed.

“What the hell are you eating?” Andrew asked in his appalled voice as he approached. It sounded rather similar to his normal voice. His hair was damp and curling gently around his face. He looked like a particularly bored cherub, and Neil wanted to kiss him. Andrew looked into the dry bowl in front of Neil and shoved it across the counter. It clattered and three pieces of cereal flew out of the bowl. “We’re going to the diner for breakfast. I’m not letting you eat that crap. Why are you eating it dry?”

“There’s no milk,” Neil replied. He’d left the splash of milk in the carton inside the fridge. He eyed the abandoned bowl of shredded wheat and smiled at Andrew. 

“Shut up,” Andrew said, stalking out of the kitchen. Neil followed, glad he had gotten dressed instead of back into pajamas after his shower, because Andrew would absolutely leave without him. He threw himself into the passenger’s seat of the Maserati right before Andrew peeled out of the driveway, the door slamming itself and barely missing Neil’s fingers. Andrew ignored the startled yelp and drove.

Because Andrew drove too fast and ignored basic traffic laws, decency, and common sense, they arrived at the diner ten minutes later. It wasn’t long enough to get the taste and texture of Mini Wheats out of his teeth, but Neil had eaten some pretty heinous things throughout the years, so he ignored it. Andrew led the way into the diner, past the sign proclaiming the existence of a hostess who would seat them, which Neil had never seen happen, and to a corner booth. When a frazzled looking waitress brought silverware and water glasses, Andrew ordered immediately.

“Belgian waffle. Lots of butter. Lots of syrup. Lots of chocolate chips.”

Neil stared at Andrew’s rudeness. He usually waited for servers to at least look at him. Neil did wait for the young woman to fumble with her order book and scribble down a few words with underlines. “Could I please have three eggs, over medium, with wheat toast, dry, and bacon, and hashed browns? Thanks.”

It was then that the woman actually looked at him, and she recoiled slightly. Neil closed his eyes, counting to ten in French. “Honey, are you --”

“He said thanks.” Andrew said, tone deadly. “Go now.”

The waitress’s eyes couldn’t get bigger, but now her concern and surprise faded into fear, and she turned and walked quickly toward the kitchen, ignoring a table that was trying to flag her down.

Neil sighed and looked over at Andrew’s impassive face. “Are you going to be a bigger jerk every time we get off together or what? ‘Cause I want to share that with you, but I don’t want the general populace to live in fear for their lives by letting you out of the house.”

“Like you could keep me in the house,” Andrew drawled. “Why shouldn’t they live in fear? You did.” I did, Neil heard.

He didn’t acknowledge it. “My father was the Butcher of Baltimore and sold me to the Moriyama family. I don’t want people to go through what I went through. Besides.” He put his hand in the center of the table, palm up, halfway to Andrew as he stared into hazel eyes. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

How could anyone say that Andrew was emotionless? It was subtle. It was beyond subtle, but Neil could see, hiding there in clear hazel eyes, a world of emotion. It was harder to decipher than it was to witness.

Andrew huffed and turned to stare out the window. Neil left his hand where it was, resting the other elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, watching Andrew. Staring.

The waitress didn’t return, instead sending a busboy who might have been fifteen or ten to clatter their plates down in front of them. It was then that Andrew slapped his hand into Neil’s, and Neil felt a rush of… life. Emotion. Adrenaline. His heart sped up, his breath caught in his throat. “Staring,”Andrew snapped, finally, as he grabbed up his fork in his free hand and dug into his waffle.

Neil was slower to start eating. He dropped his gaze to his plate and picked up his fork. Neither let go of the other until their plates were empty, and by some miracle, Andrew didn’t comment on the smile that lingered at the corners of Neil’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a really short chapter for me, so keep that in mind. (also I do not have a set posting schedule, but I do have 6 chapters written, so I wanna keep a bit of a buffer, since I don't know yet where this will end.)
> 
> I'm on tumblr! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/annileigh  
> I don't know how links work, I'm sorry!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of exy and a lot of smut.
> 
> Well, they're at the court after practice, anyway.
> 
> And then they're on the roof.

The rest of November passed in a blur of games and practices. They won some - not as many as they should have - and lost some. Neil pushed away the anxiety about his future - he had to do well in his college career. His life depended on it.

After practice the week before Christmas and their last game before winter break, the team congregated in the foyer, separating in groups of two and three. Aaron and Nicky were talking about video games. Dan was lecturing a couple of defensive freshman about pulling it together at their upcoming game Friday. Renee and Allison teased Matt about his new haircut, and he blushed, preening beneath their admiring gazes. Andrew was pretending to sleep on the sofa, stretched out to take up as much space as possible.

Kevin was yelling at Neil, but he gave no indication of hearing. He was staring at the door that lead to the court like it was the only obstacle he had ever encountered and he couldn’t quite overcome it. “Damn it, Josten, we need to do better this Friday. This team doesn’t mess around. We aren’t ready. At this point we might as well give our trophy back to Edgar Allen.”

Neil hummed and flapped an ineffective hand at the taller man. Andrew cracked an eyelid and watched the idiot sidle closer to the door. “Junkie,” he muttered, and was vaguely surprised when the redhead’s eyes shot to him. He hadn’t said that loud enough for Neil to hear him. He didn’t look away though, not when Neil’s blue eyes darkened, or when his mouth curved like it did when he was thinking ridiculous things.

“Did you hear me, Neil?”

Slowly, Neil pulled his gaze from Andrew and looked at Kevin for the first time. “No.”

Kevin sputtered, apoplectic. “What? What do you mean, no? Are you seriously not paying attention to me? This is important! We have to win on Friday!”

Neil mumbled in agreement as he walked away. Toward Andrew.

His position didn’t change, but Neil felt the change. Andrew looked relaxed as always, but he was alert now, most of his focus on the redhead approaching him. He stopped a couple steps back so as not to appear looming. “Roof later?” he asked quietly.

“Maybe,” Andrew grunted. His gaze flicked to Neil’s mouth, then back to his eyes. The corners crinkled in a smile, and darkened half a shade. “One hundred eleven.” Andrew said as he rolled to his feet and shoved past Neil harder than necessary, disappearing into the locker room to change out.

***

Later, Neil let the door to the roof slam closed as he strode across the uneven surface toward the silhouette seated on the raised ledge facing east. A puff of smoke rose, casting the man in hazy relief before the wind swept away the vestiges of the habit. Andrew didn’t acknowledge his approach, choosing instead to stare across the stretch of campus surrounding Fox Tower. Neil straddled the ledge next to Andrew, bracing his weight on the roof while the other leg dangled freely over the side. He felt Andrew glare at him, but when he looked, Andrew hadn’t moved. Perhaps he was simply glaring. Neil reached over and took the cigarette from Andrew’s hand and took a drag to make sure it was burning freely.

At this, Andrew did look at him. “I was smoking that.”

“And now I’m smoking it,” Neil responded, all sass and nonchalance. He held the cigarette cupped in his hand in front of his face, breathing in the smoke as the cigarette slowly burned down.

“You don’t smoke.” All monotone and irritation. Andrew held out his hand turning his face back toward the horizon, trusting that Neil would return the cigarette to his fingers. Neil inhaled deeply once more before returning the cigarette. He sighed and gazed out at the landscape, trying to see what Andrew was looking at.

Several minutes passed with neither man speaking, and the temperature dropping slowly but steadily. Finally Neil stood up, stretching. This earned another emotionless look from Andrew, because his shirt was too short, and the stretch bared a sliver of unscarred flesh just above his belt. “Nicky wants to go to Columbia after the game this weekend,” he said, pretending not to notice the blond’s attention. “I’m pretty sure he and Aaron are going to rebel and burn down the court if we don’t go.” They hadn’t gone to Columbia themselves since the weekend in early November when Andrew had put Neil’s hand on his body. As a group the Foxes hadn’t gone to Columbia since before the exy season started in August.

Andrew didn’t respond right away, and Neil swung his arms loosely, patiently waiting so that he didn’t have to go back downstairs without an answer. He wasn’t exactly kidding about Nicky and Aaron. The season had been long and hard, and they weren’t doing half as well as they had last year. The freshmen were untested. It had taken most of the year for Neil to bring the team together last year, and the influx of new personalities, each as broken and scarred as the next, had decimated all of that work. The team no longer functioned like a team on or off the court, and despite having Kevin Day, son of one of exy’s founders, and Neil Josten, the fastest striker in the league, not to mention one of the best goalkeepers exy had ever seen in Andrew Minyard, they had won just enough to make it to the spring season. The problem was that Kevin was as divisive as Neil was inclusive, and Andrew refused to put in any effort to protect the goal without bribery, and Neil was running out of things to barter.

Andrew’s lot, which included Andrew’s brother Aaron, cousin Nicky, and Kevin, usually headed south to Columbia at least once a month, but the team had played so poorly that Kevin had refused on the grounds that the team needed weekend practices more than he needed to drink himself unconscious in a club. Andrew’s rule was everyone went to Eden’s Twilight or no one went to Eden’s Twilight.

When Andrew remained silent, Neil approached him again, with a different question. “Can I kiss your neck?” This, too, was a test of the waters. Andrew had adamantly refused contact with Neil since their last trip to Columbia, allowing only their usual harsh mouth kisses.

A beat. Two. Three. Neil’s smile faltered. “Junkie,” muttered Andrew, leaning back toward the flat of the roof for balance as he yanked his jacket off. He slanted an unreadable look toward the taller man. “If you must. You know this fetish of yours is strange and debauched.”

Neil smirked, kneeling behind Andrew to brush his lips against the column of Andrew’s neck. He shivered, like always, and it sent a shiver through Neil as well. “You like me strange and debauched.” He nuzzled Andrew’s neck and kissed it again. He wanted to wrap his arms around the man, to pull him flush against his own body, but despite Andrew’s acquiescence, he wasn’t yet sure what kind of mood he was in, and if his touch would be tolerated or not.

Andrew sighed as if Neil’s very existence irked him beyond the telling and pushed him away. Neil fell back, catching himself with his hands on the roof behind him, knees still bent. It wasn’t the most comfortable position. He watched with hooded eyes as Andrew swung his legs over the ledge and stood before him. Neil could hardly see his face, but was certain that he was wearing a mask of boredom. He usually did. 

“What are you angling for?” Andrew asked softly, a note of heat to his words. A crack in the mask. Neil studiously kept a smile off his lips. Andrew noticed anyway, and scoffed. “Junkie.”

“You’re repeating yourself,” Neil teased. “I thought we might try something new?” Andrew raised a pale brow. Neil faltered, blushing suddenly. Andrew’s other brow joined the first. Neil didn’t blush often. “I was, um. I heard Nicky talking to Erik on Skype the other day, and they were talking about something that I thought we could maybe try? If you wanted.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Why would you want to do anything that Nicky says?”

Neil bit his lip. Andrew’s gaze on him sharpened. “Well, I tried it, um, on my own? And I think it would be better if it was with you.”

Andrew dropped suddenly to his knees, leaning forward into Neil’s space. Neil’s blue eyes darkened and fell to Andrew’s lips. The blush on his face deepened, throwing his assorted scars into harsh contrast. “You want me to finger you?” the blond asked, low and dirty, barely above a whisper. Hazel eyes were intense, boring into Neil’s. Neil didn’t think much about sex. His attraction was based solely on his nameless feelings for Andrew, and while he enjoyed the kissing, enjoyed the touching, and even though he had offered to have sex with Andrew, he didn’t pursue sex. He had never initiated anything other than kisses before.

“If you want to,” came the response, breathless. His eyes didn’t leave Andrew’s mouth, clinging to the quirk of his lips as Andrew sneered at him.

The sneer remained as Andrew kissed him, hard, using mouth and hand and knee to ease and and shove and untangle Neil’s body to lay flat on the rooftop. He straddled the redhead’s prone form, and paused mid-kiss. “Jesus, Neil, are you hard?” he asked, a false note of shock coloring his tone. He felt Neil flush again, the warmth following color down his neck and to his chest. He felt the nearly suppressed shudder that rocked the taller man, felt the hard jut of Neil’s erection against his. Neil groaned softly and lifted his hips just slightly.

Andrew kissed him again, grabbing his wrists to push them to the roof at his sides, away from Andrew. His hands were almost tentative, fingers tracing over scars. “Yes,” Neil said, in response to everything. To the question, to the act he asked for, to Andrew pinning his wrists. Andrew’s fingers around his wrists were different enough from the cuffs that had cut into his flesh that the restraint didn’t bother him at all. “And you?” He meant what he’d asked for.

“Not here,” Andrew responded, squeezing Neil’s wrists. He angled his hips, pushing against Neil’s, their bodies rubbing together. Neil hissed. “Later. In Columbia.” He rocked again, and again, and Neil wondered if he was going to get them both off just through the rough cloth-covered friction. He wondered if Andrew would get himself off, or if he would leave to deal with himself after he set Neil on fire.

Neil rocked back, wondering if he could get off just like this. With the short blond rutting against him like that, his breath coming in low pants against Neil’s cheek, he imagined he could, and that it wouldn’t take half as long as he thought. Under Andrew’s hands, Neil turned his palms up, and Andrew immediately slid his into them, fingers tangling, squeezing hard. The connection rocked Neil harder than Andrew’s next thrust, and he tried to bite back a whimper. Based on the soft grunt Andrew let out against his mouth, Neil didn’t think he was successful. “Harder?” he whispered, wishing he could grab Andrew’s hips, wishing he could slide his body against Andrew’s the way he knew would work best for him, wishing their pants would magically disappear. Andrew kissed him hard, releasing one hand to wiggle between them and cup Neil through his pants. “Yes,” Neil groaned. “Pl -- yes, Andrew.”

Andrew responded to the near-miss by biting Neil’s lip as he slid his hand down Neil’s pants. He was rewarded with another moan, and the jerk of his hard cock against his palm. His hand was rough and fast, urging Neil on, wringing gasps and moans from the redhead until finally - finally - Neil groaned Andrew’s name and came with a jerk hard enough to lift Andrew’s knees off the roof. Panting, Neil let his eyes close, let his heart rate lower, let his breathing soften. Meanwhile, Andrew was burying his face against Neil’s neck, gasping as he shoved down his pants and grasped his cock, hand already slick with Neil. He rocked into his fist, harder and faster than he’d worked Neil, until his body froze above the other boy, his orgasm silent and strong.

It was getting easier to enjoy orgasms with Neil. It helped that Neil didn’t touch him. It helped more when Neil didn’t speak to him, but even when he did, the idiot never sounded like anyone from Andrew’s past. They were rough and cruel, or cloyingly sweet and covered with lies. Neil was open and surprisingly honest and always, always amazed. 

“I changed my mind,” Neil said softly when Andrew had composed himself enough to lift his face from the crook of Neil’s neck. “I think I might actually die if you finger me. I might die the next time you lay your hand on me.” 

Andrew snorted and shoved himself upright, still straddling Neil. “I can make sure you die next time I lay my hand on you,” he threatened. “Christ, I need a shower.”

“With me?” Neil asked blandly. His eyes were half closed, his breathing too even, as though he were on the verge of falling asleep, even there on the uncomfortable and cold roof, even with the air chill around them, with Andrew’s weight on his hips, with the stickiness of two orgasms drying on their flesh.

“You need a shower too.”

Andrew stood, careful to only kick at Neil's kidneys a little, and straightened his clothes. As he shoved himself to his feet, Neil imagined that he looked about as big a mess as Andrew. Seeing Andrew like this never got old. His blond hair stuck up in all directions, his cheeks still pink from the cold and exertion, and his lips were bruised to a deep rose from their shared kisses. Andrew huffed lightly, the sound almost lost to distance, before disappearing through the roof door. Neil followed him before the door could slam shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna include actual exy but I'm too whatever I am right now to reread and refresh myself on what exy actually consists of. I will include an actual game at some point though!!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! <3


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Monsters go to Columbia. 
> 
> Kinda filler.

The Foxes won their final match seven-eight, and the monsters headed to Columbia before the team bus had cooled in its parking spot. Neil was euphoric in the front seat, but Kevin spent the drive alternately bitching about the game and complaining about how he was squished into the back seat with Nicky and Aaron while Neil -- whose legs were ridiculously short anyway -- got to sit in the front. Andrew studiously ignored him, responding only by accelerating around curves that would throw Kevin against the door or Nicky. Finally, Neil had twisted around to glare at the tall man. “You know, if you weren’t so pissy all the time, Andrew would probably let you sit up front. Shut up so the rest of us can enjoy the silence.” Nicky snickered, then coughed when Kevin shoved an elbow into his ribs.

Neil figured the only one who had any right to complain about the seating arrangement was Nicky. He was nearly six feet tall, and Aaron was only five feet, yet Nicky was sitting in the middle, while Aaron reclined against the driver’s side door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the landscape that passed them. Nicky was the only one who looked happy to be there, although over the past couple of weeks, each of them had approached Neil to ask, order, or command him to convince Andrew to take them to Columbia. 

“Come on, guys!” Nicky said now, bouncing happily in his seat. “We finally get to spend a night out and away from the freaking court.” Kevin looked aghast. Nicky ignored him. “We get to drink and dance and hook up with hotties! Hey!”

This time it was Aaron’s elbow jamming into Nicky’s side. “Shut up, Nicky, Jesus.” Aaron’s arms crossed again and he sighed as he threw his head against the window. “No one’s hooking up with anyone. We’re all in relationships.”

“I’m not,” Kevin lied. His relationship with Thea was an open secret that Kevin refused to give voice to, out of respect for Thea’s wishes.

“Your relationship with exy absolutely counts,” Nicky proclaimed, allowing the falsehood. “You are all a bunch of killjoys. And here I thought you wanted to be here!” Nicky pouted for a few minutes, until he saw the sign for Sweetie’s. Then his smile was back and he leaned forward to prod Andrew’s seat hard enough for the man to feel. “Can we get crackers, Andrew? It’s been forever!”

“No.”

“But -”

“I said no. We can go back to Palmetto,” Andrew offered, tone brooking no disobedience. Neil didn’t smile but it was a close thing. Nicky sighed again and went back to pouting as Andrew slung the car into Sweetie’s parking lot and slammed into a free spot. The men poured out of the vehicle and strode into the restaurant with varying levels of disgruntlement. 

“Food, ice cream, or what?” Andrew asked as he slipped his hand into Nicky’s back pocket and tossed the packet of crackers he’d grabbed back onto the salad bar as they walked passed. It landed conspicuously in the tray of jello at the end.

“Ice cream. You are no fun, Andrew,” Nicky whined.

Neil slid into the booth first, Andrew following him and sitting close enough that their thighs pressed. He pushed his own outward, not pushing Andrew away, but making him aware that the touch was on purpose. “I don’t mind,” Neil murmured while Nicky, Aaron and Kevin were distracted with seating arrangements. Kevin muttered something about exy, and got a fork thrown at him. “If they want to, I mean. I asked you to stop, not them. They’re none of my business.”

Andrew leveled a blank stare at Neil. “I’m none of your business either,” he replied harshly.

“I’ve made you my business.”

“Ugh, really?” Aaron grumbled, making a face at Neil. He raised his hands in finger quotes, mocking, “I’ve made you my business? You are a business transaction to Andrew and nothing more. Andrew doesn’t need to be hurt anymore.”

Andrew turned his blank stare on Aaron. Neil’s face grew warm with anger, and he half stood before realizing he couldn’t get out of the booth without Andrew moving. “I know you don’t like me, Aaron. I know that you hate me being… with Andrew. But we’ve had this discussion. I’m not fucking abusing your brother. I’m not like -- like him. Besides -- if I was, Andrew outweighs me by like twenty pounds and is faster than I am. Do you really think he would let me do anything to him he doesn’t want?”

Aaron glowered. Andrew yanked Neil back into his seat. “Ten pounds,” he muttered.

“Twenty, but it’s all muscle,” he responded with a little grin. Of all the things that Andrew could take offense at, Neil didn’t expect his weight to be one of them. "But seriously, Aaron. If we have to watch you moon over Kaitlyn, and Nicky flail over Erik, and Kevin obsess over exy, you can listen to me show the tiniest bit of affection toward your brother.”

Kevin dropped his head to the table, glaring. “Nice to see that the shitty exy season hasn’t stifled your tongue,” he mumbled, “Super great to know you still have a bad attitude.”

“Don’t start, Kevin,” Neil sneered, pointing a finger at him.

Kevin scoffed and started to say something, but Andrew interrupted. “Don’t start, Kevin,” he echoed Neil, half serious, half mocking. 

Kevin groaned. “I need a damn drink.” Nicky rubbed Kevin’s shoulders soothingly. He wanted a drink, too.

The waitress - someone new - chose that moment to approach. “Well!” she said in that service tone familiar to anyone who had ever worked in food or retail. “Don’t we all look cheery tonight. What can I get for you?”

Immediately the twins turned identically baleful looks on the poor woman, and she actively took a step backas from the malevolence. “Ice cream,” Andrew requested, gesturing to the lot of them. “Chocolate, with fudge and whipped cream and sprinkles. And a cherry.”

Nicky straightened with a grin. “Oh! Vanilla with caramel and hot fudge. And cherries. Lots of cherries.”

“Chocolate, plain,” said Aaron grimly.

“Vanilla?” Neil asked, with a shrug.

Kevin grumbled something about vodka, then raised his head. “Strawberry and chocolate. Whipped cream and nuts. No cherries. No. Cherries,” he reiterated.

At the waitress walked away, Nicky sighed. “She did not deserve that attitude, you guys. Why can’t we just be nice once in a while?

Neil smiled briefly at an old memory. “What good would we be to the Foxes if we were nice?” he asked, earning a tolerant glance from Andrew and a piercing one from Kevin. Both had been there to hear the first words that Andrew had spoken in front of Neil over a year and a half ago in the locker room in Millport, Arizona. Neil had been about to make a clean getaway when Coach Wymack came to sign him, and Andrew had slammed his own exy racquet into Neil’s stomach to stop him. Coach had berated the short man, telling him that such actions were why they couldn’t have nice things. Andrew’s face, manic and grinning violently, lingered in Neil’s mind’s eye. ‘Oh, Coach, if he was nice he wouldn’t be much use to us, would he?’ he had said, looming over Neil’s prone form as the redhead, then disguised with hair dye and colored contacts, gasped for air on the floor.

Their ice cream arrived quickly, and the time spent at Sweetie’s passed uneventfully, with the group heading to the nightclub before long. As usual, Andrew parked, while Aaron bumped fists with a bouncer in an increasingly complex manner that Neil could not comprehend. Inside, Neil and Andrew fetched drinks from Roland while Aaron and Kevin scouted out an empty table.

“Where have you little monsters been lately?” Roland asked as he started mixing drinks. “I haven’t seen you lot in months.” 

Andrew ignored the question. “The season’s been rough,” Neil replied. “We’ve had weekend practice more often than not.” 

Roland made a consoling noise as he poured a shaker full of shots and started a second round. “You need to relax, then! Are you drinking tonight, Neil?” He gestured to the wall of liquor behind him, offering him anything he wanted.

Neil did not want. “Not if I want to relax,” he quipped. He still didn’t drink often, and it was usually only one or two when he was alone with Andrew. He didn’t have anything left to hide, but he didn’t like the way alcohol made him feel out of control. It was the same reason he avoided harder drugs, and even turned down the weed that one of the freshmen had offered him earlier in the season. That had earned the kid a sharp tongue lashing when Neil put two and two together and realized that Jeff was coming to practice stoned. Once Neil had gotten him to keep his indulgences away from the court, Jeff’s play had improved drastically, although his attitude was just as bad as the rest of the new players’.

Roland finished up the shots and drinks and slid a soda into Neil’s waiting hand. “Well, do something to relax,” he suggested with a wink. Andrew continued to ignore the bartender as he hefted the tray of drinks and headed back through the crowd in search of the others. Neil followed in lieu of sputtering some response at Roland’s flirtation.

When they reached the table that Aaron and Kevin had staked out, they found that Nicky had already disappeared onto the crowded dance floor, and Aaron looked keen on following him. He stayed long enough to throw back a shot with Andrew and Kevin. He grabbed a second shot and a beer off the tray and disappeared into the crowd. Kevin set up a neat row of shot glasses and began tossing them back at an alarming pace. Neil wasn’t sure how he was even alive, the way he drank with such a single-minded focus.

Kevin continued to drink steadily, staunchly ignoring the shorter men sitting next to him. The volume of the club was already getting to Neil, and he made a motion to Andrew, gesturing toward the door. Andrew agreed with a lift of his chin, and they left Kevin to his shots, twining their way through the throng of bodies toward the employee’s entrance. Andrew propped open the door with a broken two-by-four in the alley and leaned against the wall, lazily drawing a package of cigarettes out of his pocket. He freed a single stick and lit it while Neil glanced up and down the length of the alley behind the club. He was standing still, but energy flickered around him, palpable in its tension.

Andrew took a deep drag off the cigarette, then used it to point at Neil. “Relax,” he ordered with a breath of smoke, echoing the bartender. 

Neil stared at Andrew like he was insane. “How?” he asked, stepping close to the blond, just close enough to put him on alert. “You said we were gonna… Is that still a yes?”

“Is it?” Andrew asked blandly. He pushed off the wall, stepping closer to Neil. He lifted a hand inches from Neil’s cheek, asking permission without words. The redhead leaned into his hand and Andrew caressed his face, cupping his burned cheek before sliding through his too-long curls and tipping his face down to kiss his mouth. Neil sighed into the kiss, leaning into Andrew, close enough for their shirts to brush. The kiss deepened, turn rough, and Andrew swore against Neil’s lips as he tossed his half-burned cigarette aside in favor of slicking his other hand through Neil’s curls, using his grip to switch their positions, shoving the taller man against the wall.

Neil pressed his palms to the wall, waiting for permission to touch, longing for permission so that he could slide his hands over Andrew’s skin instead of the rough brick, but never pushing. “Andrew,” he whispered, the word half swallowed as Andrew attacked his mouth, kissing him again and again. The blond’s hands left Neil’s hair, slid down his neck and shoulders, over strong arms, ghosting over the burns hidden beneath black armbands that matched his own. Fingers tangled and Andrew pushed them harder against the wall, hissing as the motion scraped his own knuckles.

Andrew growled softly, breaking the kiss to dip his head and bite Neil’s neck. The redhead gasped, and Andrew gentled, the bite changing to a sucking kiss, not quite leaving a mark. Neil bared his neck, the sound of his head cracking against the wall loud, but he barely noticed, his fingers clutching Andrew’s like a lifeline, because if he didn’t he would drag the shorter man up against him and cross fifteen different lines before Andrew managed to get a knife in his liver.

And then Andrew pulled away. It was slow and controlled, not panicked, and Neil was slow to open his eyes. When he finally pried his lids open, Andrew was standing a foot away, lighting another cigarette, looking calm and collected while Neil could hardly stand straight. A small laugh bubbled up, and Neil pressed the side of his hand against his mouth to stifle it. Andrew ignored him in favor of taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette, but there was a gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, junkie. It’s still yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's no smut this time. ;) There will absolutely be more in the next chapter.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consent was, as always, paramount, and Neil was enthusiastic in his consent. But Betsy had reminded him not to forget his own. As much as Neil wanted tonight, Andrew had to want it too, or it wouldn’t be okay, and it would likely haunt him later. Especially after his dreams from last month, when he wasn’t a consenting party, Andrew had to ask his own consent. With each ‘yes or no’ directed at Neil, he was asking himself the same thing, and if he didn’t come back with a resounding yes, he didn’t voice the words at all.

The rest of the night at Eden’s was a blur. Neil was pretty sure he didn’t drink anything, and he didn’t think they’d gotten kicked out, but if pressed for details, he couldn’t give a single one with any degree of certainty. He only snapped back to himself when he and Andrew were finally alone in Andrew’s bedroom in Columbia.

The other boys were passed out, and if they weren’t, that was their own problem. Neil was wide awake and on edge. He wanted this. He’d asked for this. He was ready for this. He stood in front of Andrew’s bed, his shirt discarded as the near-darkness provided camouflage for his scars. His armbands remained in place, and his pants were still on, though unfastened and shoved down. Andrew was in a similar state of undress with the notable exception of his pants being fastened. He was on his knees before Neil, fingers locked around Neil’s wrists, mouth stretched around Neil’s cock. Neil moaned softly, letting his head fall back as he enjoyed the sensations. Andrew was slower this time, not intent on getting him off as quickly as possible as he’d done the first few times he’d put his mouth on Neil.

There was no rushing tonight. His mouth worked easily over Neil, his goal not orgasm but relaxation. Neil was that, arms slack, body still with enjoyment. Slowly, as though testing Neil’s resolve, Andrew released his wrists, continuing the movement of his mouth, tongue dragging up the length of the vein on the underside of his cock, earning a shudder, but not prompting his hands to move. Satisfied that Neil wouldn’t grab at him, Andrew slid his mouth off, pausing to swirl his tongue across the tip. Neil’s hips jerked slightly. “Yes or no?” Andrew asked, gently squeezing Neil’s buttocks, fingers brushing the crease between them.

“Yes,” Neil responded harshly, hands fisting at his sides. One of Andrew’s hands disappeared as he slid his tongue around the head of Neil’s cock again. Neil’s groan drowned out the click of a bottle of lube opening. Then he gasped sharply as the cold fluid dripped down his crack, followed by Andrew’s fingers slicking it down. Another drop, and another, before Andrew was satisfied. He drew his mouth away from Neil.

“Um.” Neil startled. He’d never heard Andrew sound uncertain. “Do you want to lay down for this?” the shorter man asked, pressing his fingers inward slightly to indicate what ‘this’ meant. Neil nodded jerkily, and Andrew shoved him away. Hesitating only momentarily, Neil pushed his pants down and off, kicking them aside before laying down on his stomach on the bed, drawing one knee up toward his chest to relieve the pressure of his cock against the silky bedsheets. The bed dipped as Andrew climbed up, straddling his unbent leg. Neil murmured assent, and Andrew traced a slick finger between Neil’s cheeks. Neil sighed softly, letting his eyes close. 

Andrew stared at Neil’s ass. Round and firm, taut against his fingers. This was a step that Andrew had never really considered. He knew better than any that roughness wasn’t desirable at this time, but gentleness did not come easy for him. He spent long moments simply pressing his fingers between Neil’s buttocks, brushing against his hole until Neil began to relax again. A harder press was met with a soft sigh, and Andrew echoed it. “You have to relax or this won’t work,” he ordered.

“Sorry,” Neil muttered, taking a deep, slow breath and releasing it. “Nervous. I feel -- exposed.”

“Should have left your shirt on,” Andrew said, sliding his clean hand up the curve of Neil’s ass to his back and back down. His fingertips unerringly found the stark ridges of scars Neil hadn’t realized were familiar to Andrew.“Just relax.” His hand stroked over his ass and he pressed his finger against Neil’s hole again, felt him tense then suddenly relax enough for the tip of his finger to slide in up to the first knuckle. Neil gasped softly. Andrew pressed deeper, drawing back minutely, then pushing deeper yet. Neil surprised them both with a moan as he tensed around Andrew’s finger.

Andrew shivered. He hadn’t expected the clench of Neil around his finger to echo so resolutely elsewhere in his body, but he was suddenly painfully hard. His free hand touched Neil’s back, his sides, dipping under to his stomach, each touch finding a scar. This was Neil. Neil was a rock that wouldn’t shatter, no matter what Andrew did. He was something strong and unbreakable that could ground and center Andrew if he let him.

Hand curved over a slashing scar on Neil’s abdomen, Andrew pressed his finger deeper into Neil’s body. When he added more lube and a second finger, Neil groaned, pushing back against his hand. “God,” he breathed, wriggling against the bed. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Andrew’s tone wasn’t quite as even as he preferred. He gritted his teeth and tried to even out his breathing. When had his heart started pounding?

Neil huffed. “Andrew, please don’t take this the wrong way…” He paused long enough for Andrew to slide his fingers free, thinking Neil was changing his mind. “You can finger me harder.” 

Andrew’s cock understood the words before Andrew’s brain did, jerking in his pants and leaking a drop of precum that surprised him. “Harder,” he said, not quite a question. Feeling more than seeing Neil’s nod, he thrust two fingers back inside. Hard.

Neil shuddered and bucked against the bed. Andrew hummed and scissored his fingers inside Neil, stretching him a bit. The redhead groaned again, but it sounded muffled, like his face was buried in a pillow. His body contorted, muscles rippling across his back and shoulders as he shoved an arm under his body. “Andrew, that feels so fucking…” He trailed off, a soft hiss of air spilling from his lips. Andrew pressed his fingers deeper, looking for the angle that would reach Neil’s prostate. He hummed again as he found his quarry. “Fuck.” The word exploded from Neil’s lips on a breath of air, percussive in the still night. He squeezed tight around Andrew’s fingers. “Can… can you… another?” neil’s voice was strangled, breathless, and he couldn’t help thrusting between his own fist and Andrew’s fingers. Andrew added more lube to his fingers and Neil’s hole, and slowly pushed a third finger inside him. Neil wasn’t being quiet at all now, for all he was muffling half his moans into the pillow. Between moans, he was talking. Talking. “God, Andrew. I want you so much. That feels amazing. Your fingers, God, your hand. Don’t fucking stop. God, Andrew.”

The blond shoved his fingers inside Neil faster, being rougher and testing the waters. When Neil didn’t flinch, he did it harder, his own breath coming out uneven and quick. “I fucking hate you, Josten,” he replied to the litany as he opened his pants with his free hand, breathing a sigh of relief as he wrapped his fist around his own cock. 

“Andrew, Andrew, are you?” Neil half twisted to look behind him. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and he barely saw Andrew’s glare, but his hand didn’t stop. “God, that is hot, Andrew. Don’t stop; I want you to come with me.” Vaguely, Neil couldn’t believe he was still babbling dirty talk at Andrew, and was more amazed that Andrew wasn’t shutting him up.

Andrew had given up all pretense of being gentle with Neil. He should have known. Neil wasn’t a soft, delicate flower. He wasn’t breakable by physical means. Roughness, even pain, didn’t bother him. It was Andrew who wouldn’t be able to stand inflicting pain on him. Not like this.

But Neil wasn’t in pain, not even remotely, if he was going by the way the redhead still hadn’t closed his damn mouth. His hands occupied, Andrew leaned down and bit the upper curve of Neil’s ass. His yelp was utterly shocked, and the bite did as desired - Neil was silent. “You talk too much,” Andrew muttered. “Shut up.”

The silence didn’t last long, and when Neil spoke again, his voice was strained with an emotion Andrew couldn’t quite place. “I can’t, Andrew, I really can’t. I just… Andrew, I don’t want you to stop, don’t stop. I’m close.” 

Andrew stopped jerking himself off in favor of focusing his energy on getting Neil off. He kept slamming his fingers into Neil as he curled his other hand around the redhead’s hip, holding him still. “Come for me, Neil,” he ordered, but it came out on a gasp. 

Neil choked on his next moan, his body stiffening then shaking apart as he came. Andrew hissed at the squeeze of muscle around his fingers. He could feel each spasm of Neil’s body, his orgasm lasting a startlingly long time before he finally stilled. Soft sounds slipped from his lips as he relaxed in the aftermath, sighs and moans. Andrew slid his fingers free and released Neil’s hip with his other hand. 

Time seemed to slow, and Neil was still on the bed, face buried in the pillow. He mumbled into the pillow before turning his head. “Do you want to get off?” he repeated, locking eyes with Andrew. 

Andrew scowled at Neil’s prone form, tangling his clean hand in Neil’s hair for a moment before bouncing off the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. You’re on clean-up.” Andrew didn’t hurry out of the room, but Neil was still dazed enough that the door opened and slammed closed before he could react, and when he did, it was with an affronted laugh.

Clean-up necessarily included stripping the bed and remaking it with clean linens, since Neil had been too far gone to realize the mess he was going to make of the sheets before actually doing so. Clean-up of his person would have to wait for Andrew to finish in the shower, and Neil was already planning ahead for next time.

In the bathroom, Andrew finished himself off quickly, memories of Neil playing behind his eyelids as he held himself away from the shower wall, hot water pounding on his back and the back of his head. As he washed up, he analyzed his mental state. There was a little anxiety - there was always a little anxiety - but he didn’t feel guilty or dirty. Mostly he felt like he always did, apathetic. Thinking about Neil triggered emotion that Andrew couldn’t name. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was bearable. It poked at his anxiety, but not as much as he would have thought it would. He had spoken with Betsy about this weekend during his Wednesday session. Not in detail, not in specifics, but enough that her insights had helped. 

Consent was, as always, paramount, and Neil was enthusiastic in his consent. But Betsy had reminded him not to forget his own. As much as Neil wanted tonight, Andrew had to want it too, or it wouldn’t be okay, and it would likely haunt him later. Especially after his dreams from last month, when he wasn’t a consenting party, Andrew had to ask his own consent. With each ‘yes or no’ directed at Neil, he was asking himself the same thing, and if he didn’t come back with a resounding yes, he didn’t voice the words at all. 

It helped, Andrew supposed, that fingering was never a thing he’d done with anyone, from either side of the act. His past abusers didn’t care about that. But with Neil… This was something unsullied that they could share, that couldn’t be ruined by invasive memories.

It helped that Neil enjoyed it so damn much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, sex!  
> I had to rewrite this almost entirely because it ran away with me in a very hot but very OOC manner. Then I had to rewrite it again because I had to find a non-angsty ending because apparently I REALLY wanted Neil or Andrew or both to freak out at the end.
> 
> My buffer is officially out, but chapter 6 should be ready in a day or two, if I don't wind up working through my day off tomorrow.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment, it makes me ridiculously happy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil’s grin made Andrew’s chest feel warm, and he smothered it with another kiss.

Andrew woke the next day to Neil nuzzling his neck, his own arms wrapped tightly around the taller man’s body. The early afternoon light streaming through the window set red curls aflame before his eyes, and he lifted a hand to card through them, needing to see if they were as hot as they looked. Sleep was slow to leave him, and he realized that he hadn’t dreamed. More importantly, Neil’s proximity hadn’t woken him violently.

Neil purred beneath his ministrations, and Andrew tipped his chin down to cut off Neil’s access to his neck before it made him shiver and gave Neil ideas. “G’morning,” Neil murmured, voice husky with sleep and remembered pleasure. Andrew grunted a response, tugging gently on the curls to bring Neil’s head up. Already he was smiling, loose and easy, like he was happy.

“Neil.” The name held a wealth of questions and demands - are you okay and is this okay and are you sore - and Andrew’s lips tilted down at the corners.

If anything, Neil’s smile widened like he could read Andrew’s mind. “I’m fine, Andrew.”

The slight frown morphed into a full-on scowl. “Neil.” This time, the name was a warning.

Neil protested, “I am! I’m good. I’m in your arms; how could I be otherwise?” 

Andrew made a disdainful sound and disengaged an arm so that he could grab and shove a pillow into Neil’s face. “Shut up,” he said, settling his cheek into the pillow. It muffled Neil’s chuckle, before he wiggled free so he could breathe again.

Neil rolled out of bed and stretched, pretending to be oblivious to the way Andrew watched him for any sign of lingering discomfort. “Wanna join me for a run?” he asked easily. This, of all things, convinced Andrew that the junkie was actually okay, and he responded by rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head. Neil left for his run and Andrew dozed for a little while. Before long, his empty stomach prompted him to get up. He stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at the two-days’ growth of beard on his cheeks. It was barely visible in its lightness, but it was starting to get itchy, so he was considering shaving when they returned to Palmetto.

A half-empty pot of coffee sat on the machine as if waiting for Andrew’s appearance. He poured a mug and added several spoonfuls of sugar and a generous dose of cream. He sipped the sweet concoction as he poked around the cupboards for breakfast.

Like the last time they were in Columbia, there was little to eat, and there was still no milk in the refrigerator. With an irritated exhale, Andrew shuffled into the living room to see who else was awake.

Nicky, Aaron and Kevin were all in the room, but Kevin looked like he was still asleep, sitting on the floor with his head tilted back on the seat of the couch. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, and while he wasn’t snoring, it didn’t seem like it would take much of a change in position to prompt it. Aaron was awake and drinking the missing cup of coffee from the pot, and Nicky was curled up on the far end of the sofa, holding an ice pack to his temple.

“Hungry,” Andrew said. It might have been a question or a command. Nicky’s face turned a bit green.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Nicky asked in a wobbly voice before swallowing thickly. Andrew leveled a blank stare at the older man, refusing to answer.

Aaron finished his coffee. “He’s running, Nicky. You know Neil. Neil fucking Josten.” The blond sighed and stood. “I’m not eating, Andrew. Might as well go without us.”

“Go where?” came Neil’s voice, wide awake and curious, from the front doorway. He kicked off his shoes and tugged his bright orange bandanna off, spilling damp red curls across his forehead. Andrew’s glare cut over to the man, catching the curls, the slight confusion on his face, the softening around his eyes when he saw Andrew looking. God, he was ridiculous.

“Breakfast,” Aaron answered for his twin.

Nicky groaned softly, resting his hand on his stomach. “I think.” That’s as far as he got before jumping to his feet and sprinting down the hall. The bathroom door slammed open and closed, and Aaron flinched in sympathy.

The slam woke Kevin, who sat straight and immediately toppled over. “Stop,” he whined, grabbing at the floor manically, then nestling into it, eyes closing again.

Andrew sighed and pointed at Neil, who was still standing in the doorway as if transfixed by the scene before him. “Go shower. Quickly, if you want to eat.”

Ten minutes later, Neil threw himself into the passenger’s seat of Andrew’s Maserati and the door slammed itself as Andrew peeled out of the driveway. “Good morning to you, too,” Neil complained mildly.

Andrew ignored him in favor of keeping two hands in a white-knuckled grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. Neil soft and happy was hard to deal with, when he was still processing his feelings about last night. He couldn’t deny that Neil seemed fine.

“One hundred seventeen.”

Neil’s head thumped against the seat. “What did I do now?”

Andrew didn’t answer and Neil didn’t seem to expect him to, but Andrew relaxed his death grip on the steering wheel. 

***

When they returned to the house, Neil jumped out of the car and hurried past Andrew to reach the front door first. Unimpressed, the blond lit a cigarette and, when he reached Neil leaning against the door, blew a breath of smoke in his face. “Hey,” Neil murmured. Hazel eyes snapped up to ice blue. “Yes or no?”

Andrew leaned into Neil’s space, crowding him against the door without quite touching him. The hand holding his cigarette braced against the door just above Neil’s shoulder, and he searched Neil’s face. Nothing but open acceptance there. Then Neil’s eyes flicked down to Andrew’s mouth and back up, and now they held a whisper of desire. “Yes,” Andrew said before kissing him roughly, closing the distance between their bodies.

The sound Neil made, almost a groan mixed with a sigh of relief, prompted Andrew to toss his cigarette aside and slide his hand into Neil’s curls, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

The door shook beneath them as someone inside tried to open it. Andrew was slow to pull away.

“What the -- oh, Jesus, Andrew? Really?” Aaron gave the door another shove against Neil’s back, and like the little shit that he was, he planted his feet and leaned harder to keep the door mostly closed. “Come- come on, you guys, let me open the fucking door,” Aaron complained, slamming his fist against the other side of the door.

Neil looked at Andrew, who looked back. The tenseness around his lips eased slightly, and he shook a fresh cigarette from the pack. Neil grinned briefly, then just as Aaron shoved the door again, stepped away. The door flew open and Aaron stumbled halfway across the porch before catching himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Aaron snapped, glaring at Neil. “Can you two keep your idiot hands off each other for five seconds? His highness wants to go home. Apparently the court is waiting.”

Neil snorted. “Is he even sober enough to stand? He was hugging the floor pretty hard before we left.” 

Andrew added, “I’m not driving anywhere with Nicky until I’m sure he isn’t going to heave in my car. And since when are you the messenger boy?” He sent Aaron a scathing look around the cigarette.

A clatter sounded from inside, followed by Nicky’s voice, somewhat less miserable than earlier. Kevin appeared in the doorway. “Good, you’re back. Let’s go.”

Andrew raised his brow and stared blankly at the tall man. Neil glanced between the two of them and slipped inside the house, darting upstairs. “You do know that I am not your chauffeur, right, Kevin?” Andrew’s voice was low and deadly. Kevin and Aaron were unimpressed.

“We need to practice. The team sucks. They have potential, but they are consistently falling short.” Kevin spoke animatedly, as he only did when the subject was exy. “I told the freshmen who are staying in Palmetto that we would be back for practice by four. It’s past two.”

Andrew finished his cigarette and stubbed it out against the porch rail before flicking the butt at Kevin’s face. “I guess you should have told me first, huh?” With that, he shoved past Kevin’s sputtering form and followed Neil upstairs.

In their room, Neil was packing up yesterday’s clothes when Andrew appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing?” Andrew asked, following the redhead’s movements.

Neil had the grace to look somewhat abashed. “...Practice?” he offered lamely.

Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose. “Junkie.” Shaking his head, he stepped into the room, stepped into Neil’s space. The redhead's entire demeanor changed, and he dropped the shirt he was folding, turning to fully face Andrew. Even his breathing changed, and his blue eyes were intense on Andrew’s face.

Andrew lifted his hand, and Neil leaned closer. Andrew’s fingertips brushed against the soft curl at Neil’s forehead, traced over the shell of his ear. A small shiver ran through him. “Yes, Andrew,” he murmured. Their mouths were a whisper apart, and Andrew couldn’t look away.

The moment stretched, Neil unwilling to make the first move without Andrew’s explicit permission, and Andrew wanting to see how long he’d wait. Finally, finally, Andrew closed the bare inch of distance. Neil sighed into his mouth. It felt like coming home.

That scared him. Home was never something that Andrew had really had, but this… this was enough.

He kept the kiss as light as he could, but with Neil intense and wanting in his arms, it quickly changed. He kicked the door closed and laced his fingers through Neil’s curls, using his grip to guide the two of them to the bed. He pushed, and followed Neil down, straddling his prone form, noting his hands, open and easy resting now at shoulder level on the bed.

Andrew didn’t realize that he was grinding against Neil until Neil groaned against his mouth and arched into him. Andrew broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. Breaths mingled and eyes clashed. “Practice?” Andrew mocked.

Neil’s grin made Andrew’s chest feel warm, and he smothered it with another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, i'm sorry this took so fucking long. I'm struggling with personal stuff and writing is hard. I hope you like this!


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